


Outraged

by russianwinter013



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Explicit Gore, F/M, Gen, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderbending, Implied Sexual Content, Masochism, Multi, Sadism, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-04-26 23:03:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5024035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/russianwinter013/pseuds/russianwinter013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do you know what they say about revenge, about it being best served cold? No, I completely disagree. Revenge is best served hot, with the sweet Energon flowing through my claws. I can remember how horrified she was, to see one such as me; I remember the fear in her dying optics. I revel in the memory of the screams she made. Revenge, as I see it, is best served hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rememberance

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the tags. This is one of my darkest works.
> 
> Also, this is one of the shortest chapters I will ever write, but it is necessary for the way I am setting up this chapter.

He couldn't stand her, and she knew that. She knew he despised her with all of his spark. She could feel the dark, smoldering rage that cloaked him like a brooding storm.

And she did not care.

She did not care  _one bit._

So what if the cowardly medic hated her? There was no point in fighting him; she would just win anyway. One was only succumbing to the medic's wrath if they ended up on his operating—pardon, his  _dissection_ table. And she was sure as the Pits that she wasn't going to end up there anytime soon.

She had nothing to fear.

Or so she had thought.

* * *

She was always aware of his hate. She had seen his sadistic, satisfied smirk when Soundwave had attacked her. Primus, that faceless mech always suspected her, and he always got in the way of her planning.

But the medic—the  _tone_ that he used. He was always speaking to her as if he were mocking her, ridiculing her, challenging the authority she had once held. The Vehicons had spoken about how rude the medic was, how brutally honest he was and how he would only seem to be respectful but would turn at the quickest moment and stab you in the back.

She could not say that it was something she  _didn't_ deserve. It was just something she did not  _care_ about.  She did not care about the medic, he did not care about her, and she returned the favor by stabbing him in the back when he least expected it.

Now, sitting bloody and broken, shivering in the cold damp cave while bleeding out as pain stabbed her sensory net, she was starting to think she had been foolish in attacking him.

She could remember it oh so clearly. She could hear his mirthless laughter, feel the blazing agony as his poisoned blades and claws and dentia tore into her.

Yes.

She could remember it  _so clearly..._

 


	2. Raging Fear

_"Airachnid, you are wanted in the meeting room."_ The voice of Nightscar, an older Seeker, sounded on her commlink. _"There is a meeting for all division commanders."_

_Of course there is._ She had recently captured and tortured the Autobot spy Mirage, but her endeavor had not revealed any information. The enigmatic former Tower mech remained silent and stubborn; if he did speak it was to snarl at her in his hometown dialect, something he somehow made fierce yet imposing.

"Airachnid." A deep, drawling voice sounded behind her. She groaned inwardly, placing an acidic smirk on her face as she turned. Knock Out was heading towards her. His red biolights glowed in the dim light, and his matching optics held the slightest hint of malicious intent.

"Yes, what do you want, Knock Out?" She crossed her servos and slowed to allow him to catch up.

"How goes the interrogation?" the other hissed, his wings twitching. The strange mech was one of the rare triple changers they possessed, and aside from being the ship's only medic he was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, a very formidable warrior. He was known to have attacked a few of the Vehicons and even a few of the division members when he became bored, so everyone had to watch their back, constantly looking over their shoulder panels for a black shadow lingering in the halls.

"The same as always. He hasn't revealed a thing."

The black mech's armor shifted over his lean, powerful frame. "You are _certain_ you are doing it correctly?"

The femme's extra appendages clicked and twitched. "If you are so intent on the correct methods, why do you not file a complaint and take my occupation?"

A rumble came from the medic's engines. "I can visit him, if you like."

"Your techniques are far too brutal for him to withstand. You would most likely terminate him than question him."

"Where is the fun in questioning when I can have it all in the torture?" Knock Out grinned, his optics flashing wildly.

A half pleased, half annoyed sound came from the spider-femme, but she said nothing else as they entered the meeting room. All of the commanders were there, seated in their designated seats. Only Megatron was not present.

"How good of you to finally show." An extremely tall, lithe jet black mech emerged from the shadows. His wings towered over him, and one was covered by the scars of semi-healed lacerations.

"Well, we showed on time, did we not?" Knock Out rumbled, heading silently over to his seat.

The mech's engine growled. "Time is of the essence. We cannot afford to wait on certain individuals."

"You do realize that you are addressing me, Nightscar?" Airachnid smiled viciously, her extra legs flaring behind her.

"You are mistaken if you believe I fear you, Spider," the Seeker snarled, his optics narrowing to dangerous slits.

"You would be wise to. I could dismember your body before you would be able to cry for help like the miserable pit bound Seeker you are."

 "Why you—"

"Enough." Dreadwing stood, his massive frame filling the room. He had not spoken since he had arrived, watching silently like he always did; his voice was deeper than their lord and master's, rumbling and echoing whenever it was used. There were rumors—created by the Vehicons, no doubt—that he was the reincarnation of The Fallen himself.

"Airachnid, Nightscar, stand down. There is no honor or respect in involving yourselves in such an inconsequential, ludicrous situation. What good will come out of this?"

"I would acquire a new trophy," Airachnid sneered, grinning sadistically.

Nightscar had had enough. Wings flared, he approached the spider, intent on causing harm. Airachnid stood her ground, readying her poisoned claws.

"I said enough!" Dreadwing was in between the two, his enormous wings flared, his sword and blaster unsheathed and aimed at the feuding commanders. "It is time for you to cease acting like sparklings, snapping at the slightest annoyance."

* * *

 

_Yes, she remembered it clearly. The meeting with the division commanders, the run in with Knock Out, the fight with Nightscar and Dreadwing. She knew she probably wouldn't have stood a chance against Dreadwing, as he was one of the warriors with the greater skills; despite the fact that he was not a former gladiator, he was able to go pede-to-pede with Optimus Prime._

_She chuckled, wincing at the pain that stabbed through her. Dreadwing was always that way._

* * *

 

Airachnid hissed at the massive Seeker before her. "I would move if I were you, Dreadwing."

"Attempting to incite anger in your opponents is a tactic that will not continue to work," the Weapons Specialist growled. He turned to his twin. "Skyquake."

The green and silver Seeker came to attention, having been ready for his older twin's call.

"Take Nightscar to the brig," the blue and gold warrior ordered. "I will speak with Airachnid."

Before Dreadwing could continue, however, a chill settled in the room. Sensing someone behind him, he turned. A tall, thin mech entered the meeting room. Dreadwing and Skyquake immediately assumed respectful, relaxed positions.

"Soundwave." Dreadwing nodded respectfully, placing a clawed servo over his chest as a sign of greeting. The mech, even taller than the Seeker before him, ignored the greeting, motioning for Dreadwing to sheath his weapons.

Soundwave pointedly turned his featureless face on the jet black Seeker. Nightscar snarled, but said nothing, fixing his golden optics on the smirking Airachnid.

_"Remember~your...place...Airachnid."_ The TIC leaned down from his massive height and loomed close to the spider. She glared, internally uncomfortable with being within reach of the one mech who had nearly killed Megatron and would not hesitate in doing so to her when he felt the need to.

Turning away, the Communications Officer turned to Skyquake. _"Return...to...~your seat."_ The words were laced with static, but the command was clear.

Dreadwing approached with the snarling Nightscar in his grasp as his twin did as ordered, unperturbed by the lithe mech's struggles. "What do you wish of him, Commander?"

Soundwave looked down at the black jet. Silence was palpable in the cooled air, and all of the silent Commanders watched, almost fearfully.

_"Give him~to...Knock Out."_

Fear could not help but penetrate their sparks at the sudden brightening of the medic's mood, and how quickly he had come to attention, tearing him from whatever dark, demented thoughts occupying his processor. His optics blazed and his huge pointed dentia were bared in a sadistic grin. Nightscar narrowed his optics at Soundwave, who did not acknowledge the action.

Knock Out's wings were twitching, betraying his excitement as the black and purple TIC approached him. _"You are...to~punish. Required. Non-negotiable."_

The tall black mech nodded, his black and red optics burning with an insanity that made every 'Con near him -except Soundwave- look away in growing discomfort.

"Very well, Soundwave," Knock Out murmured, as if he had not been in acquiescence with the mech's statement. "What do you suggest?"

The TIC turned away, shoving Nightscar towards the insane medic's waiting servos. The lithe jet jerked before Knock Out could even touch him, flaring his wings wide in unveiled aggression. Knock Out was not fazed by his anger, and he merely bared his dentia in that unsettling grin. Everyone knew what it meant:

_You are mine now._

They all watched as the medic dragged Nightscar from the room, down into the lone corridor that housed his chambers.

Moments later, agonized screaming was heard.

Followed by silence.

* * *

 

_Ah, yes. She could recall that orn perfectly. She had been so amused when she heard the screaming coming from Knock Out's corridor. She was pleased to know that Nightscar was no longer with them._

_But oh, how **pleasure** could so quickly turn to **pain**._

_She had laughed at the thought of Nightscar -the enormous, powerful, quick, agile Nightscar- cowering beneath a poisoned scalpel. She remembered the others' fear, and how they had avoided the satiated medic, who had been in a frighteningly pleased mood the next day and smelled strongly of fresh Energon, the hints of it staining his dentia and claws._

_She remembered how she had felt sorry -if only the slightest bit- for anyone who had to endure the medic's version of pleasure._

_But did she feel sorry for herself?_


	3. Liquified Agony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the tags start to come in. For those of you too lazy to read them, here's an overview: there is explicit gore and torture. Basically, it's all Knock Out doing what Soundwave told him to do to Nightscar. I tend to go into extreme detail and may even edit this chapter to add more, so if any of the aforementioned stuff affects you negatively, do not read this chapter.

He was scared.

No, not scared.

_Terrified._

Soundwave had subjected him to the worst of punishments. All because of a petty dispute. But then again, the faceless mech was known for being cold and sparkless, not minding at all when someone died from an order, as long as they achieved the given objective.

He would have taken _any_ other form of retribution, but to be given to _Knock Out,_ of all mechs...

A shudder ran through him, his armor flaring from his frame in his fear. No, he should not be feeling this. _Fear was not something he had._

Oh, but now... yes, fear was something he truly had. He admitted it. He was terrified beyond belief. Knock Out was nearly as sparkless as Soundwave and was more sadistic than Megatron. To be caught within his reach when he was in a terrifyingly bored and murderous mood was worse than being subjected to burn eternally in the pits.

"Hello, my dear Seeker." The words came, faint and rasping. Primus, he was so close. He shuddered as thin, ice-cold digits trailed lightly against his armor.

"You glitched-up pile of slag! When I get out of this I'll -"

A scream tore from him as long, razor sharp claws tore into his side, twisting, curling, shredding the circuitry. He let out a garbled whine of pain as the hot Energon poured from the wound, dripping out and over the berth 

"You will do _what_ , you pathetic excuse for a Decepticon?" The medic's voice lowered suddenly, filled with hatred and disturbing amusement. He could see his faceplate looming over him, glowing an almost ghostly white as the dim light reflected off of his huge dentia. "You cannot do a thing. You are at my mercy."

"Mercy?" Nightscar laughed, only to be cut off by a harsh cough as he choked slightly on the Energon rising in his systems. "You don't even know the meaning of the word!"

Knock Out growled, his optics flashing with enough raw fury that it made the slightly shorter mech restrained to the berth beneath him hesitate. The medic did not respond to Nightscar's comment, instead turning away and vanishing from view.

Nightscar waited, panting heavily and slightly dizzy from the Energon gushing from his wound. He had provoked _Knock Out_. He knew he was going to die very soon. Knock Out was not one to be taken in to account lightly. The mech could hold a grudge -

A yelp of shock and pain escaped his vocalizer as a servo was shoved into his newly acquired wound. He turned his helm to see the medic, who was grinning eerily at him as he flexed his claws deep within him. Nightscar howled in pain, arching off of the berth even as the medic's talons tore through more vital circuitry. He watched in horror as the towering black mech brought his claws to his mouth, tracing his glossa over them as he licked them clean of his captive's lifeblood. When Knock Out noticed him watching, he narrowed his optics, filled with insanity and pleasure, and continued to lick the blood clean off of his claws.

"You...you _sick, pit bound -"_

A clicking, rumbling sound filled the air, and the medic's servo transformed into a silver buzz saw, its massive teeth glinting with the tell-tale gloss of the Agony Poison the mech was so infamous for.

"I do not know why you continue to run that mouth of yours." The medic snarled, leaning so close that Nightscar could feel the torturer's icy ex-vents. "There is nothing you can say or do that will stop me."

Nightscar gasped, cycling air through his rapidly overheating frame. "Then you're a stickler...for the rules...aren't you...?"

The medic was eerily silent after that, and Nightscar could see his slightly hazed optics, knowing Knock Out was lost deep in his thoughts.

Thoughts that were centered around the joyous idea of Nightscar's gruesome death.

The door to the medical bay opened. A large navy blue mech entered, his yellow-orange optics burning. Fear pierced Nightscar's spark, and he struggled to get free, the task becoming more inconsequential and irrational by the nanosecond.

"Knock Out," he rumbled. "What have you been doing? We need to -" He cut off as he saw the restrained Seeker. "Oh." The massive mech smirked, nearly as frightening as his partner's, as a low chuckle escaped him. "You got a new experiment."

"More like a new prize." Knock Out rumbled as his partner pulled him into a strong embrace, pressing his mouthplates to those of his mate's as they kissed violently.

Nightscar found it repulsive that a being such as Knock Out could have a partner.

"What is he in for?"

"Soundwave let me have him. He disrespected two other commanders."

"Why didn't you tell me? We could be doing this together." Breakdown stared at the medic. "Who?" he continued as he eyed the black jet, his optics flashing with unrestrained amusement.

"Dreadwing and Airachnid. I do not care for Airachnid, but this little Seeker did not follow Dreadwing's orders." The medic's powerful engines rumbled, and he flared his wings, batting his companion's servo.

"Hmm." Breakdown released the slimmer medic, keeping his pupil-less gaze on Nightscar. While Breakdown was not as insane as his companion, his sanity was doubted by most, and being stared at by a mech who was known to beat his victims to a pulpy mess of scrap metal whenever he felt like it did not help that feeling. Nightscar was wondering what he was thinking.

"What, Breakdown?" Knock Out snarled, but it was not as filled with anger as it should have been.

The navy mech grinned, exposing flashing white dentia. "I think I'll stay and watch. Maybe contribute."

Knock Out smirked, facing Nightscar. "Are you ready for your lesson?"

Nightscar snarled, optics narrowing. He shuddered as the freezing digits traced his exposed circuitry.

"Oh." He could hear the grin in Breakdown's voice. "Did you do that? Was there enough left for me?"

Nightscar heard Knock Out's growl and images of his huge dentia covered in his lifeblood flashed through his processor. An involuntary whimper escaped him.

"Not really. There is not enough. Most of it has congealed." The long talons traced the exposed wound, making his armor draw tight against his frame. Knock Out's talons were nearly as acidic as Airachnid's, and each new shallow scrape he received was more painful than the last with the poison crawling through his veins.

But oh -how these mechs were unnerving. They were so frightening when they were apart.

Now they were together.

That meant Nightscar would be suffering for a while.

He watched warily as Knock Out approached him, his buzz saw and dentia extended. Primus, he was going to use both his saw and his fangs. He shuttered his optics as the blade plunged deep into his servo, and a scream of agonizing pain tore from his vocalizer, laced with static. His internal systems were failing from loss of massive amounts of Energon. His processor was swimming, but he was aware enough to feel the pain.

But then, it all stopped suddenly.

He cracked open his optics. Knock Out was looming over him, his pale, ghostly faceplates contrasting against his black armor. Feral hunger blazed in the burning depths of his gaze. The saw still revved within him, making him cry out as it tore through additional circuitry and Energon lines. He saw Breakdown behind his lover, watching with sickening and morbid fascination and amusement. But, despite the screaming of his newly acquired captive, the medic was completely still and silent.

"Knock Out?" It seemed Breakdown was somewhat unnerved by the medic's sudden stop. His yellow optics narrowed as he approached. Knock Out turned and snarled viciously, sensing his approach, and the navy mech hesitated.

"Wait." The medic spoke, his voice a dangerous murmur.

Wait for what? Nightscar wanted to demand, feeling unease sink deep into his spark.

The triple changer seemed to read his mind and faced him. Oh, Primus, that grin.

Breakdown watched with his helm tilted, his optics blazing and dentia flashing. "Knock Out..." The faintest hint of amusement filled his voice.

The Seeker flared his wings wide, his intense stare giving Nightscar chills. What was going to happen? Why were they so excited -?

Suddenly Knock Out lunged, towering over the restrained experiment. His dentia were extended as far as they could go. Oh, Primus, he was going to -!

Acid fire erupted all over his body. No...it tore through his very being. He screamed and screamed as the poison carved its way throughout his chassis; he arched off of the berth as the toxic substance began burning his internals. He could taste it, burning his glossa...oh, how he wished he could just purge his tanks and get rid of it... anything to get rid of it. His HUD flashed insistent warnings that his body was overheating too much for him to handle, and despite his internal fans being at top speed, there was not enough, not enough. Knock Out's fangs and claws tore into his neck, his chest, any uninjured place available. The scorching liquid flew through him. Oh, the pain, the agony. Above him, the medic snarled, the noise rumbling through his distressed chassis, making his screams intensify. In the background he could barely make out Breakdown's laughter, making his tanks lurch at the thought of someone enjoying his pain.

Then, it stopped. The fire dulled, a beast confined in a cage, sated until some lone object wrench it from the thin slumber in which it lay. Nightscar unveiled his gaze, and horror shot through his spark. His armor -his once beautiful, glossy armor- was destroyed. Patches of corroded metal covered him, the places where the burning of the twisted work of the poison had been the strongest. The pieces were jagged, black holes, gaping mouths like an embodiment of the Pit itself, the deepest exposing strands of partial wires and non-vital, smaller organs.

"Why...?" Nightscar's vocalizer refused to work properly, the query coming out as a garbled, hazy slur of a barely formed word and crackling static.

Knock Out hissed above him, red and black optics flashing maniacally. His grin was still there, yet Nightscar was too exhausted to care.

"Oh, my dear Nightscar...you know what you are here for."

Without warning, the icy claws sunk deep into the restrained Seeker's chest. Nightscar screamed shockingly loud, but Knock Out did not care. Continuing to sink his poisonous talons deep into the chestplates of his beloved experiment, he leaned close. A thin glossa shot out, trailing against Nightscar's faceplate and leaving a cold, fiery trail in its wake as it lapped up the Energon covering the slick metal. With a forceful, painful jerk, the medic tore open the Seeker's chassis, savoring the scent of fresh Energon. Nightscar gasped -whether in horror, pain, or shame, it could have been all of them -as his spark was exposed.

A fading ball of energy, the spark of the Mad Doctor's newest prize pulsed weakly. It was a swirling mass of silver, black, and red, jerking around in its housing as it displayed its owner's fear and agony for the world to see. Nightscar sucked in rapid cycles of air, desperately attempting to cool his sick and distressed body. He saw the medic's satisfied smirk and shivered as his claws traced the spark casing.

Knock Out leaned close. "Tell me why you are here."

Nightscar wanted to snarl, but his vocalizer had been decimated by the medic's self-generated poison. How had it even gotten in there?

He screamed as fire and pain ripped through him. The claws were embedded into his armor, and black burns were appearing.

"Tell me why you are here." The medic spoke again, his voice a dangerous murmur.

Nightscar shook his helm, baring his disintegrating dentia. Never.

Knock Out's optics narrowed, and he seemed ready to tear out Nightscar's spark at that precise moment as his grip on the casing tightened.

He was startled and slightly frightened when the medic leaned back and laughed. It was not a chuckle, or even the dry sarcastic bark the Decepticons were used to. It was deep and powerful, frightening to the point where it rumbled throughout Nightscar's body. He leaned close, closer than before, and murmured words as stinging as his acid against his captive's audio:

"You did not answer me."

The furious fire roared through him. He was not able to scream anymore; his vocalizer was melting, streams of scalding metal dripping down his battered throat.

"I..." Static sputtered from what remained of his voice box.

The medic rumbled, an almost mischevious light in his insanity-filled gaze. "Yes?"

"Can't..." He gasped, hot Energon rising and spilling from the tears covering his throat. The running lifeblood poured, and he choked. Knock Out did not seem to care; the action only seemed to infuriate him further. His grip tightened even more. A static-laced whine escaped the victim's decimated vocalizer.

"Tell me why you are here."

Oh, the pain. He couldn't take it. Make it stop...

"Dis..." Nightscar's chassis heaved, arching off of the medical berth as the agony blazed through him.

The medic snarled, becoming increasingly infuriated with his experiment's inability to speak. Perhaps he had been angrier than he had first believed...

"Dis..." Nightscar's golden optics were flickering. He was bleeding out rapidly, and it was a matter of time before he would be dead. Then, like a dying ember, the half-finished statement was completed.

"Dis...dis...respect...ed-d..."

A growl rumbled through the black assassin's chassis. "Who?"

Momentarily, Nightscar's optics refocused and fixed on Knock Out, alight with the hint of annoyance they were used to holding. "Dread...wing..."

A vicious smirk appeared on the triple changer's faceplate. "Exactly. Now that, my dear little Seeker..."

Claws wrapped painfully tight around the spark casing. With a sickening twist of wires snapping and hydraulics cracking, Knock Out wrenched Nightscar's spark from his chest. The Seeker's mouth twisted into an 'O' of pain and surprise as his life force was torn from his body, a hiss of echoing static erupting from his now useless vocalizer.

Knock Out leaned even closer, chilling ex-vents misting in the heated air. "...is why you are dead." He eyed the limp lifeforce in his grasp. Legend stated that consuming the lifeforce of another granted one immeasurable power...

"I know what you're thinking." Breakdown appeared next to his partner, placing a heavy but gentle servo against his own. "You always do so after a failed experiment."

Knock Out snarled. "He was not a failure." He crossed his servos and pouted slightly, before it turned into a sadistic smirk. "Like I said, he was a prize." His engines growled ominously. "He learned his lesson."

"Yeah." Breakdown glanced at the limp corpse, his optics flashing. "I guess he was."

The black triple changer looked down at his companion. "Do not tell me you are feeling regret, my dear Breakdown?"

Breakdown scowled. "I am not. He was just...a nice mech."

Knock Out chuckled. "Well, he disrespected an officer of higher authority. You know Soundwave cannot stand that, which is why he established the rule..."

"...that any insubordinate officer gets handed over to you for due punishment." The navy blue mech vented softly. "But he wasn't all that bad. He could've just had a bad day."

"Yet he decided to take it out on a superior officer." The medic snarled, becoming irritated with his lover's complaints. "Honestly, Breakdown, if you cannot handle this, then leave."

Breakdown curled his lip into a rueful smile. He leaned over for a quick kiss. The medic snarled again, his engines rumbling, but he did not move away and returned the gesture.

"You know that wasn't what I meant, dear," Breakdown continued. He held out a servo, gesturing to the door. "Now. Shall we return to the meeting?"

Knock Out vented. "Very well." His gaze could not help but stray to the cold spark in his clawed grasp as Breakdown vanished through the doorway.

"Knock Out, so help me, if you don't put that spark down..."

The medic's vicious, irritated snarl cut him off. "Fine, fine. I am coming." He quickly subspaced the spark for later use.


	4. Taciturn or Black Horror

All was silent.

Said silence was almost palpable, and its cold and slimy grasp covered any being—be it sentient or not—in its heartless embrace.

The Commanders and their Second in Commands were immobile. It was highly likely that their deranged medic would torture the unfortunate Nightscar endlessly, but none of them had expected it to be to such an extreme extent. The lingering wail of the Seeker's screams was permanently etched into their processors, sending a relentless chill down their spinal components. 

They all could not help but wonder if the medic had been more unoccupied than they all had first thought.

"I am pleased, considering the circumstances." Airachnid spoke, her voice a low and devious purr, as her spider legs shifted and clicked high behind her. "He deserved that."

"I was a result of your dispute." Nesincer, Head of Special Operations and Nightscar's commanding officer. His optics flickered, changing from a creamy white to an unnerving crimson, the violent and bellicose color displaying the mech's growing rage.

"I was merely defending myself, Nesincer," Airachnid hissed, sickeningly sweet with a purr and a flick of her venomous talons. "He was the one who started it."

Nesincer did not seem pleased by the spider's words, yet he did nothing to show his irritation. With a flick of his wings, he faced Soundwave. "With all due respect, sir, Nightscar was one of my best. Was it deemed necessary to have punished him so?"

Soundwave did not respond verbally, turning his helm toward the battle-scarred mech addressing him. The temperature of the room dropped even lower, a chill that settled deep into their inner workings, carving its way through their internals. They all shuddered, aware that the patience of the hypothetically callous Third in Command was being tested to the breaking point.

At the moment, the door hissed open. A tall, slim femme entered, large wings raised almost arrogantly above her back. Her deep crimson optics burned with a hidden passion as she approached her designated seat, one that was a few chairs from the head of the table. She did not sit, lingering with an intricate elegance as her faceplate was settled into an expression of boredom and irritation. Her brooding silence only increased the tense atmosphere of the room.

"Starscream." Dreadwing broke the silence, the growl of his engine echoing. "Where is Lord Megatron?"

The femme pursed her lip plates, examining her long talons. "Lord Megatron will be joining us shortly. There were matters to attend to." Her optics were dim as she became lost in her thoughts.

"Commander." A black and silver mech with large wings spoke up, his cold emotionless tone nearly as chilling as Soundwave's recordings. "With all due respect, we have been waiting for some time. We all recognize the fact that Lord Megatron is not present as of now. Perhaps it would be logical to begin the meeting."

Starscream's optics brightened and focused on the speaker, blazing a furious scarlet. "Are you ordering me, Blackwing?" Despite the displayed anger, the Femme Commander's vocalized statement came out smooth and cool.

But before he could respond, a cold voice cut him off.

"Starscream, that is no way to treat our equals."

An enormous mech stepped into the room. Polished black armor covered his powerful frame, deep red accents interspersed on his servos and chest. Spikes curved outward from broad shoulder panels, symbolizing the obvious massive strength he possessed. He moved silently, with a fluid grace that contradicted the brutal way he was known for destroying anything he believed a foe.

His deep red glare penetrated each mech or femme sitting at the table. A slight smirk exposed razor sharp dentia, and the massive red and black fusion cannon mounted on his right servo glinted in the dim light, the power inside churning and whirring.

"Lord Megatron." Everyone immediately rose to their pedes and bowed low.

"Enough. Sit, all of you," the massive mech ordered, his powerful voice echoing. They all obeyed, though Starscream took her precious time.

"Soundwave has informed me that insubordination has occurred in my absence," Megatron rumbled. His dark ruby glare pierced every officer as his optics narrowed; he loathed insubordination as much as his third in command. "Explain."

"Allow me, my lord." A low, drawling voice sounded. Knock Out appeared in the doorway, Breakdown shadowing him. The triple changer's optics were as bright as the infernos in the Pits of Kaon, and his dentia were extended, dripping fresh Energon onto his jet black armor.

"Ah, Knock Out." While it was known that Megatron did not possess favorites, it was known that the insane mech was a likely candidate; he knew how to get the job done, quick and easy. "How nice of you to show." He watched as the medic and his second in command reached their seats, but did not sit. They were waiting for Megatron's approval.

"Proceed."

Knock Out's engines growled audibly, the vicious noise tearing through the tense atmosphere of the room. A frightening smirk appeared on his faceplates as his wings flared wide behind him, and his forked glossa ran over the Energon coating his poisonous dentia. "The insubordinate was Nightscar, the second in command of the Special Operations Division, run by the lovely Nesincer." The black mech motioned to the cold mech sitting across from him. "He was, apparently, in a mood that was...worse for the wear. Said mood was encouraged and worsened by our charming femme Airachnid." His optics blazed as he pinned his gaze on the purple, black, and yellow femme, the manic light in his optics wilder than usual. Breakdown shifted behind him, but it was unclear if he was unnerved by his partner's mood or pleased by it.

The femme's armor flared indignantly. "If I may be so bold, master," she began, addressing the massive figure at the head of the table, "Nightscar was not encouraged by me. He was merely...shall we say, preoccupied by our tardiness." She nodded at the black and red triple changer.

The mech said nothing in response, his smirk growing into a sadistic grin as a low growl rumbled throughout him.

"If I may, my lord?" Dreadwing spoke up, looking up respectfully at the former gladiator. The leader of the Decepticons nodded once, and the massive Seeker stood with a grace and silence that belied his mass. "While Knock Out and Airachnid were late earlier, Nightscar had been the first one to arrive. We are all well aware of his punctuality, and this need to be early can be known as...obsessive. Therefore, his mood was only sour due to the fact that his fellow commanders failed to arrive on time."

"Are you saying that Nightscar did not disrespect an officer of higher authority?" Airachnid demanded. "You were the one he disrespected earlier."

At this, Megatron seemed to wake from a daze, his crimson optics focusing dangerously. "Nightscar disrespected you." It was more of a statement than a question.

Dreadwing's narrow crimson optics darkened ever so slightly. "Yes, my liege. He refused to obey a direct order."

Megatron growled, his engine rumbling in accordance with the action. "Then, by all means, he deserved what Knock Out did to him." The scarlet optics blazed, flicking over to the mentally unstable medic, who was watching the events unfolding out before him, his powerful wings fanning the air in a sporadic rhythm. "This matter is closed. Now -"

"Lord Megatron."

All optics turned to the speaker. It was Breakdown. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, the navy armor clamped down on his strong frame.

"Yes, Breakdown?" the warlord hissed, armor shifting and cannon whirring.

"With all due respect, Nightscar had been known for his massive mood swings. Medication for such mood swings were prescribed by myself; past brutal processor scans had resulted in the decimation of his emotional command cortex. Knock Out and myself were only just able to repair such damage. His moods varied based on the event occurring around him, and he always had trouble adapting to situations that changed too quickly for his processor to catch up with. His outburst earlier may have only been a result of a condition his glitched emotional cortex."

Before the tyrannical warlord could respond, a malicious snarl sounded. Knock Out leaned forward in his seat, helm cradled in his servos as tremors racked his lean chassis. Breakdown was immediately at his partner's side, muttering reassuring words to the triple-changer. Knock Out shook his helm, wings flared and armor rising and falling from his frame. The black mech's condition was well-known; his body was dependent upon the lifeblood of others for survival, and when said lifeblood stockpiles ran out, the medic would revert to a feral, savage beast intent on incapacitating any living being near him.

They all watched as he pushed away his partner, straightening. His dentia and claws were extended, and furious growls rumbled throughout his chassis. The insanity that was clear in his burning gaze made it clear that his sanity - what little of it he had left - was deteriorating, replaced by a monstrous rage that could destroy any being near him. Audible scraping of chairs was heard; the surrounding commanders were not about to let an insane, extremely dangerous mech anywhere near them.

"Knock Out, that is enough." Megatron's optics narrowed, refined armor flaring from his powerful frame. He was well aware of the medic's condition, and did not desire the result said condition could - would, only if he were released - cause.

The medic snarled again, armor flared in unveiled aggression and fury. His gaze, thankfully, was fixed on his partner, who had faced the enraged mech. The sanity of the black mech was extremely questionable at best, whether he reverted to the ravenous beast or when he was stained with a jaded personality and sought to relieve himself of said boredom by finding a new dissection experiment. But now, Knock Out was no longer thinking rationally -or as rationally as a mentally unstable being could do- and was dangling on the edge of deciding whether or not he wished to terminate all those who stood in his way of having a new meal before him...

"Knock Out." Megatron rose from his seat, mouthplates set in a scowl that exposed sharp dentia. "It was not a request."

The triple-changer faltered ever so slightly, optics flickering. He was loyal to Megatron, even his second personality.

The atmosphere was tense and wary. stretching over the beings within its reach to pierce them with the spear of fear and cold. The chilled, unneeded air swirled around them, moaning with the whisper of the wind, thin wispy fingers trailing deceptively over powerful, shifting armor. Red, silver, white, and black gazes darted throughout the room, overwrought with the barely concealed threat lingering.

It was only when the assassin bared his fangs and stood did true panic begin to penetrate their supposedly emotionless sparks...


	5. Desperate Hunger

They all froze as the black triple changer stood, fangs extended dangerously long and optics blazing with the ravenous insanity his vampire-like side was known for possessing. The mech's wings flared and, without warning, he lunged, going for the nearest, who happened to be one of the Vehicon guards working under Blackwing's authority. 

The scream that tore from his vocalizer one of pure and unadulterated horror, one that pierced their very sparks. They watched in horror—and for some, slight and morbid fascination, for the mech's murderous moods were entertainment for them—as the soldier was attacked. Long, toxic claws tore through refined armor with terrifying ease...slashing through the soldier, ripping him apart piece by piece, the Energon gushing from the wounds being the only thing the triple changer ingested; it boiled and sizzled and hissed, nearly overwhelmingly hot, as it splashed against the flared armor of the mech currently attacking its owner. The unfortunate Vehicon's limbs were torn off, strewn across the room haphazardly, and the huge fangs slashed through the Vehicon's neck, tearing away his vocalizer with a wrench and a sickening crunch as it was quickly destroyed and devoured by the assassin. The talons sunk deep into the chestplates, wrenching them open and latching onto the spark casing, ripping it from its host. The Vehicon's body jerked, yet being unable to scream made it all the more unnerving. Knock Out did not throw away or consume the spark; it only confused them as his massive subspace opened and he hid it away from prying optics. The Energon flowing from the body was quickly lapped up by the medic. The blazing crimson optics snapped up, locked onto his next target.

A target that happened to be Airachnid, who was currently using her lord and master as an enormous, sentient shield. 

The triple changer's mouth widened into a disturbing and sadistic grin, and he advanced, wings flared wide. A malevolent snarl rumbled throughout his chassis as he made his slow, menacing way towards the stunned femme. The medic's partner saw the window of opportunity and, however small it was, took the chance that was presented.

"Everyone back!" Breakdown roared, waving his servos as he moved in front of his enraged partner. They all hesitated, and he sensed it, turning. 

"What in the Pit are you waiting for?! Move!" His fiery tawny glare was enough motivation. Everyone tore out of their seats, all moving to the other side of the room to stand behind Megatron, who remained powerful and silent as he stood blocking the conference room's only point of entry and exit. Had it been any other mech, the Division Commanders would not have moved so quickly. 

But it was not "any other mech".

It was Knock Out. 

A mech with vast knowledge of the Cybertronian body, knowledge that could be put to beneficial or malevolent use. The medic used said knowledge as leverage on the field, striking the enemy where he knew it would cause severe and nearly irreparable damage. He used it for gruesome entertainment as a means of feeding the ennui his mind succumbed to. The worst was when he used it to fuel the rage when he succumbed to the beast within...

In other words, his predilection for cold-blooded murder. 

The murderer glared at his partner, optics narrow and fangs bared as vicious growls erupted from deep within his chassis.

Breakdown was not perturbed, however. "Knock Out. You need to calm down. Listen to me." He moved forward hesitantly.

Knock Out snarled, baring his huge fangs, his blazing optics fixed on the nearest object of interest. His olfactory vents flared, picking up the scent of a new target. The Officers watched, wary and tense, aware that if Breakdown made even the slightest of unwelcome moves his partner would most likely succumb to the irrevocable and inescapable bloodthirsty wrath of the beast.

"Breakdown, if you are going to do something in an attempt to stop your partner, I suggest that you do so before I am forced to intervene," Megatron snarled, armor flaring as the Commanders stood cautiously behind him.

"With all due respect, it takes a while to calm him down, my liege," the navy mech responded. 

"Then do so already and cease wasting our time!" Airachnid hissed, her spider legs clicking. 

"What do you think I'm trying to do?" the SIC of the Medical Division growled, armor flaring. Unfortunately, Knock Out saw it as a sign of weakness and threat and pounced. Everyone but Megatron moved back abruptly, not expecting what had just occurred. 

Knock Out snarled as he pinned the navy blue mech to the ground, wings flared wide and engines growling with unrestrained fury. Breakdown hissed as the huge talons tightened on his throat to begin injecting poison into his systems by means of main circulatory Energon lines, the toxin carving through his veins making the task of circulating air throughout his overheating vents more difficult with each passing moment. 

"Breakdown?" Megatron narrowed his optics, armor flaring as he made to step forward, recognizing what the medic was currently doing. He was not about to lose one of his best frontliners, one that brought both massive strength and cunning to the battlefield.

"No." Megatron hesitated ever so slightly, his frame radiating his fury, at the one hoarse and choked word that came from the Second-in-Command of the Medical Department. "Do not...move..." The warrior gasped, optics flickering as they briefly locked with the simmering gaze of the feared Decepticon warmonger. "He's given..." Breakdown cringed and coughed hoarsely as black burns began to appear on his armor. "...I am...immune to the...poison. Only slight...discomfort..." 

Megatron did not favor how the words of the Second-in-Command of the Medical Division were forced and strained. He narrowed his optics, prepared to incapacitate the ravenous medic should the circumstances worsen. Starscream, unfortunately, noticed the change in her master's disposition.

"My lord, should we not assist him?" she purred, fanning her wings as her dark optics fixed on the struggling mech and the snarling beast. "We cannot afford such a casualty. Breakdown is a valuable addition to our ranks, in and out of the battlefield. We would be devastated without him."

Megatron looked down at the Femme Commander. "Have some form of useless faith, Starscream, and cease making things overly dramatic. Breakdown knows how to handle his partner." He snarled, armor shifting and flaring from his frame. "All we can do, for the time being, is see how he will handle him."

Starscream faced the topic of their conversation, her powerful engine rumbling softly as she crossed her servos. "If you say so, Master." There was a brief moment of silence, as if the femme was either lost in her thoughts or merely pausing for suspense. 

As it would seem, Starscream continued after a moment of watching Breakdown attempt to make his lover's iron grip falter. "Yet it has come to my attention that things have been shaky between the two as of present." A bitter smirk appeared on her faceplates, enough to make the warlord's spark twist in slight disgust and irritation at the fact that the Femme Commander was currently delighting in the events that were playing out before them. "What will happen if Knock Out does not restrain himself and terminates his partner?"

The warlord growled, his powerful engine rumbling. "That will not happen, Starscream, and you very well know it. Now be silent and let us observe what is currently happening." The threat hidden deep in such a quietly given statement did not go unnoticed by the femme, and she curled her mouthplates back into a soft and bitter snarl as she followed her lord and commander's orders. 

"Knock Out..." Breakdown was attempting to reason with his enraged superior, smoke rising from the growing burns on his chassis as the hissing of the heavy, refined metal filled the area. "You need to...stop..."

The medic merely snarled and narrowed his optics, his grip tightening so much that the frontliner's neck was slowly becoming crushed. His wings rose and flared, showing his growing irritation. Why was this prey so hard to terminate? Why could he not just tear out his spark and be done with it? What was so different?

Powerful engines rumbling, the triple changer increased the strength of his hold. Perhaps strangling the life out of this irritatingly resilient prey would help. But oh, it would not be as painful when he ended up on his dissection table...oh, no. The fun would just be beginning.

_Terminate him. What are you doing? Just kill him already!_

_No. There is something different about this one. This prey...it is not as mindless as the rest._

_Whether our food has a processor able to function correctly is not our problem. We must refuel! Do you not smell that delicious Energon? You are hungry, that we know. You must refuel, you must! Unless you are too weak-willed..._

_Your luck is running out, and my patience is thinning. I suggest that you mute your vocalizer._

_Or what? You will terminate me? I am you! You cannot kill me without killing yourself! Now kill him!_

**_No!_ **

Breakdown noticed the faint flicker in his mate's optics, recognizing the inner argument he was currently having with himself. "Fight it, Knock Out. Control. Control yourself."

The triple changer growled, his grip loosening ever so slightly, as his wings displayed his inner turmoil. "Breakdown..." Suddenly he threw himself off of the weakened navy blue mech, leaning heavily against the wall. All of the Commanders tensed, weapons whirring. Knock Out snarled at them, narrowing his flickering optics. The action did nothing to subdue their anxiety.

Breakdown stood, placing a soothing servo on his partner's back as the forceful tremors returned. "It is alright," he murmured. "We'll find refuel somewhere." He was only slightly concerned at the weak hiss that came from Knock Out, his tawny optics flickering as he looked down at his superior. With a slightly unnerving snap, his focus returned to the tense mechs and femmes standing in front of him, and his golden glare fixed on the wary Commanders. He did not seem to care that his lord and master was the one who glared back as he spoke in a deep and furious growl. "Lower your weapons. Now."

Megatron waved a servo and they did as told. "Breakdown, leave and find refuel for your partner. The rest of you, sit down."

Breakdown led his lover out of the room, steadying him with a strong grip. The Commanders all watched as they disappeared.


End file.
